A Thousand Cuts
by Antigone2
Summary: (title change from Save Tonight) Usagi ran until her lungs burned and her legs ached and tendrils of hair clung to her neck with sweat. She didn't dare think, she didn't dare feel. When she finally stopped, chest heaving and eyes burning, she almost cried out at the cruelty of where her subconscious had led her.
1. Chapter 1

-written for Week 3 of Smutember on Tumblr, the week one trope I picked is "Just Tonight"-

Check Moonbeams and Lemon Dreams' chapter 5 for my Week 1 contribution, "_Sweet Sweet Fantasy Baby_" which is the trope "totally into your alter-ego". It's fluffy and funny and basically the opposite of this angst-fest. You've been warned.

I love my fic consultant FloraOne and my hard working beta lrritable-vowel-types

mwah!

* * *

_I look through the windows of this love,_

_Even though we boarded them up_

_Chandeliers still flicker in here_

_'Cuz I can't pretend it's okay_

_when it's not_

\- Death by A Thousand Cuts, Taylor Swift

Everything was perfect, exactly how Usagi had always imagined it when she was a little girl: a fancy rooftop restaurant, Tokyo lights spilling like fallen stars, the moon heavy in the blue-black sky. And, of course, the devastatingly handsome man kneeling before her, gazing up at her almost reverently.

"Usagi Tsukino, will you be my wife? Will you marry me?"

Everything clicked into high relief: the warm summer night air on her shoulders, the lingering taste of champagne on her tongue, and the bit-back gasps of delight from the circle of friends surrounding them. Usagi was sure they all knew before she did, and probably even helped him pick out the ring - which was perfect: a sparkling, colorful stone - not a diamond. Usagi hated diamonds.

It was like she was floating, watching the scene from above, and the cold metal against her skin as he began to slip the ring on her finger slammed her back down to reality.

She pulled her hand back almost reflexively and the ring slipped from his surprised fingers and landed on the floor with a metallic ting that seemed impossibly loud in the silence.

Indigo blue eyes looked up from the ring and then at her, hurt, shocked and then - after a moment - deeply, deeply sad.

"I can't do this. I thought I could but I just," she managed to say, her voice barely a whisper, "can't. Not anymore."

Movement caught the corner of her eye - one or more of the girls stepping toward her - and for possibly the first time in her life Usagi didn't want her friends.

She didn't want to see the knowing, sympathetic looks in their eyes.

So she ran.

Through the bar area, into the artificial embrace of air conditioning and fluorescent lighting, blindly pushing past couples and friend groups and black-clothed servers, leaving behind her purse, phone, money, keys, Suica card and Seiya Kou, still kneeling before empty air.

* * *

Even though she must've been a sight running several city blocks in a gauzy pink party dress, the drunken salarymen and trendily dressed coeds barely glanced at her. It wasn't the craziest Juuban had seen, not by far.

Usagi ran until her lungs burned and her legs ached and tendrils of hair clung to her neck with sweat. She didn't dare think, she didn't dare _feel_. When she finally stopped, chest heaving and eyes burning, she almost cried out at the cruelty of where her subconscious had led her.

Just like when she was a pining teen obsessing over every time Natsumi touched his arm, just like when he'd disappeared into the Dark Kingdom and she would spend hours looking up at his dark window. Just like when she'd promised and promised and promised to stay away and then ended up outside the glass doors of the building lobby with tears already burning their way up her throat.

Mamoru's apartment building.

Fight or flight was taking over again, and, like her namesake, Usagi chose flight. Or, tried to.

She turned and ran smack into a warm body. A warm, _familiar_ body, strong arms steadying her as she dizzily blinked up at him.

"Usako," Mamoru said, face expressionless but relief flashing for a brief moment in those endless blue eyes, "the girls are looking for you."

And she broke down in tears. Hysterical, hiccuping, hyperventilating sobs, clutching at his shirt, and he put his arm around her, comforting and steady.

"Hey," his voice was gentle, worried, "Usa, it's okay."

She couldn't seem to breathe outside of short, quick gasps, white spots started to appear on the peripherals of her vision, and she would've fallen to the pavement if Mamoru hadn't lifted her into his arms. Usagi scrambled her arms around his shoulders, nails clawing at his shirt, body trembling violently as she gasped for breath against his neck. She was vaguely aware of being carried inside, set down on a chair in the lobby of the building, with Mamoru kneeling in front of her.

"Put your head between your legs," he said, voice soft and calm. "Breathe with me, Usa. Breathe." His hand on her back, and she struggled to take breaths as he did - in, out.

_In, out._

_In, out._

He took her wrist in his hand, softly pressing two fingers to her wrist. His touch made her break inside, but Dr. Chiba was just taking her pulse.

"I need you to focus on five things you can see," he said and she forced her eyes to the dingy lobby floor, the scuffed, ruined ballet flats on her feet, the shiny black of Mamoru's shoe as he sat before her on one knee, his graceful fingers still curled around her wrist, and the ends of her pigtails falling onto her lap.

"Four things you can hear," he continued, in that same soft, calm voice. Obediently, she focused on her heartbeat in her ears, street noises outside, and continued as he instructed her further, to think of three things she can feel (the warmth of his hand against her back…), two things she can smell (her own sweat, his familiar spicy cologne). "Now," he finished, nodding in approval, "one thing you can taste."

Her brows knit at the absurdity of that last one; what she tasted was her mouth. She said so, and swore amusement flared for a moment in his eyes. "Ok, good," he said softly. His fingers brushed a lock of hair by her ear, before he pulled them back into a fist.

Swallowing hard, Usagi felt calmed enough to shift in the seat, lean back and look at him. It'd been a while since she'd seen him, actually. Once Galaxia was defeated, there was no need for Mamoru to be around as much, and he kept his distance - probably relieved to finally leave his crybaby ex-girlfriend to her own devices.

Glossy black hair feathered into his eyes, he'd gone too long without a haircut again. His eyes were still that striking blue, looking at her with patient concern. Had his shoulders gotten even broader? His cheekbones more defined? How had he gotten even more heartbreakingly beautiful?

He took his hand off her back.

"You had a panic attack," he said, eyes still searching hers. "Does that happen often to you?"

She managed to shake her head.

"What happened?" he was still taking quietly at her, and Usagi sent a watery gaze around the very open, very public lobby.

"Can we…" Her voice surprised her, hoarse and shaky and sounding like it came from someone else.

He led her to the elevator, and they rode up in silence. Although he stayed near her, ready should she start to collapse again, they didn't touch.

Usagi followed Mamoru into his apartment and soon she found herself sitting gingerly on his sofa, hands curled around a mug of hot tea she had no intention of drinking. He sat down next to her, at a respectful distance.

"How… how much did the girls tell you?" She looked at him almost warily.

He shook his head slowly. "Makoto called and said you ran off without your purse and you might be…" He cleared his throat, pulling a hand through his hair. "I might be able to help find you." He offered another small half smile and it made Usagi want to die, then it melted into a look of pure concern. "What happened, Usako?"

That nickname was a cruelty he seemed unable to give up, and one she welcomed, as much as it hurt. The day he called her 'Usagi' would be the day she'd surely break.

"We were all at Seiya's birthday party… thing…." If renting out the entirety of the area's trendiest bar could be considered a mere 'party'. Usagi spoke to her tea, avoiding watching Mamoru's face at the mention of Seiya. He didn't like the pop star much, Usagi knew, although he was cool and polite the few times they met. Usagi figured Mamoru wouldn't read the sort of tabloids that threw her and Seiya's picture all over their covers, although he was aware of their relationship.

It was always awkward for them when a significant other was involved. And Seiya was by far the most significant other in Usagi's dating history. Before him, Usagi had only very casual boyfriends - quickly frightened away by food poisoning, Kenji Tsukino or running tackles in the street. But Seiya… loved her. And in her own way, she loved him. His easy going nature and sense of humor was a balm to her tortured heart. He made her laugh, he made her have fun, he made her feel safe.

But he couldn't make her forget. None of them could.

"I… left him," she said, "for good." She felt rather than heard Mamoru let out a quiet breath.

He was so hard to read. She remembered one night when they were fighting Dr. Tomoe's daimons, she'd accidentally gotten drunk at Edward's mansion and got the phone number of a blonde exchange student (Ted?) whom she'd impressed with her relativity pudding theory. Mamoru had advised against calling.

"He's a player," he'd warned, taking the paper from her like a disapproving dad, rolling his eyes like he couldn't believe her gullibility.

Usagi, still stinging with jealousy after watching him dance with Michiru most of the night, snatched it back with a "Maybe I WANT to play!"

Now she wondered idly if she'd ever told Mamoru she threw out his number as soon as she got home.

Tears were streaming freely down Usagi's cheeks, and Mamoru reached out and gently brushed them away with his thumb. She shut her eyes and leaned into the caress. He let his knuckles brush down her cheek, hesitated, and then lowered his hand.

"Did that little twer-" He cleared his throat. "Did Seiya do something to you?" His voice had an edge to it. "Some celebrity crap like cheat or lie or-"

"He proposed."

Mamoru was struck silent.

"Marriage," Usagi clarified and Mamoru gave her a sarcastic 'no kidding' look. "Well say _something_!" she said, biting back a hysterical, unhinged laugh, struck suddenly by the sheer absurdity of this situation. Her tea sat on the coffee table, forgotten.

"You said no?" he finally said, eyes dark and inscrutable.

"Of course I did!" She snapped, "As if I'd ever marry anyone besides you!" And then froze. Blinked up at him. Rei always told her words have power, and now the ones that hung in the air between them crackled with it.

Almost pleadingly, she met his eyes - which were now a stormy, intense blue. Her voice broke, as she finally admitted her deepest held truth out loud: "It'll never be anyone but you."

She'd tried. She'd tried so hard to keep the promise they'd made years ago. After finally being made aware of Mamoru's prophetic dreams and the real reason for his breaking up with Usagi, they'd all - the senshi, Luna and Artemis - decided that keeping Usagi safe was all that mattered.

Usagi herself didn't have a say since, as Luna pointed out, if the princess had just _listened_ during the Silver Millennium, shown a little _restraint_, perhaps two worlds wouldn't have perished. This was a second chance for them to make the responsible choice. "After all," Luna had said, logically, "you two never even liked each other much in this lifetime, anyway."

Mamoru nodding slowly at this was almost more painful for Usagi than dying had been.

But that was only the start.

Because he was more introverted, or perhaps more sensitive to Usagi's feelings than she was to his, Mamoru hadn't really gotten involved with anyone else… until an old high school friend confessed her feelings for him midway through his sophomore year.

That had been a rough time on Usagi. They were in the middle of the whole Dead Moon Circus nightmare, and all of a sudden now she had to deal with Mamoru and Saori: Best Couple. When Mamoru got deathly ill due to the poisoning of the Earth, the brunette had insisted on bringing him chicken soup and researching rare diseases in the university library, while Usagi had seethed silently at her utter cluelessness. When they'd broken up not soon after, Usagi couldn't even feel bad about her relief.

She wondered how Mamoru felt now. And how_ Seiya_ was feeling right now. Oh, god, what sort of monster _was_ she?

"I'm the worst," Usagi wailed, fingers digging into her bangs, new tears burning her already salty cheeks. "I left the perfect guy! So funny and kind and adventurous and open… and protective and warm and… and he …. I know what they said, I'm not stupid, I know he looks… he looks like you. And he acts like you, sometimes. Except he doesn't roll his eyes at stuff you find silly and he doesn't avoid uncomfortable topics and his poker face sucks…" Usagi tried to compose herself. "I could never figure out what hurt more," she whispered. "When he reminded me of you or when he didn't."

"Oh, Usako," he sighed, and she hated the sadness in his voice.

Did he pity her? She was pitiful, she thought, a love that had destroyed worlds was now destroying her.

Usagi moaned and dropped her head into her hands. "I know. I'm such a mess."

He reached up to stroke her head, palms large and warm against her scalp, thumb moving slowly down the part in her hair. The tingles on her neck and down her spine could be him using his healing power, or simply her body's reaction to his touch. She couldn't tell anymore.

She lifted her eyes to his - he was so close now, lips falling open slightly, hair still just a bit too long in his eyes. Slowly, he ran his hand down her cheek, running his thumb over her bottom lip.

"This..." she whispered, clutching the fabric of his shirt in her fists, buttons digging into her palms, "can't… can't hurt anything, can it?"

His eyes were like the sky at midnight, searing into hers.

"You," he said, voice tight. "It could hurt you." His eyes were tortured. But he didn't move away.

She shook her head, violently, tugged on his shirt, pulling him closer. "Don't you see?" she cried. "I'm already wrecked."

He squeezed his eyes shut, lowering his forehead to hers, blonde hair mingling with black, his other hand coming up to tangle through the hair at the base of her neck. "So am I."

And just like that, they were kissing. Hard, desperate, feverish kissing with open mouths and mewls and gasps. Usagi's hands went from his shirt to the back of his head, fingernails caressing his scalp as she shifted her body to straddle him on the sofa, lifting herself on her knees so she was slightly above him. His hands were in her hair, on her waist, then grabbing at the layers and layers of tulle skirt that covered her bottom.

Usagi tried to stop to breathe, to get a handle on herself, but her tongue betrayed her, delving again and again into his mouth - guided by his steady hand on the back of her head as he pressed his open lips harder against hers. With a growl deep in his throat, he shifted his body, turning them to press her into the sofa.

He moved his mouth to her skin, searing hot kisses up her neck and swirling his tongue onto her collarbone. She whimpered slightly, entire body sizzling with wanting.

Usagi's voice came from deep in her throat, vibrating against his lips. "Mamo-chan…."

With an intake of breath he lifted himself on his arms and looked down at her, all shocked eyes and mussed hair.

She hadn't called Mamoru that in years.

It wasn't like they had never slipped up like this before. Swept up in post-battle relief and adrenaline, their bodies betrayed themselves, she'd been kissed breathless by Tuxedo Kamen on a rooftop only to awkwardly pretend it had never happened more times than the senshi knew about. There were rare nights out, the whole group of them, the dance floor of the club hiding wandering hands and alcohol breaking down restraint.

Less forbidden but just as painful, there were friendly shoulder squeezes and gentle teasing about her grades, or when she'd been spiraling about not being able to transform when Rei's pure heart was taken, he'd taken her to a shed full of kittens. Heartbreaking reminders of how much she desperately, utterly loved this man.

But this was different. This was her looking into his eyes - dark with arousal and shining with tenderness - and confirming. Agreeing.

"Give me one night," she murmured. "Give _us_ one night."

She didn't have to ask twice.

Because then his lips were back on hers, less frantic but deeper, longer, his tongue moving in deliberate motions along hers- it was like chocolate melting in her mouth, rich and luxurious and there was never, never enough. She arched closer as his body slid along hers - the weight of him simultaneously comforting and arousing - his belt buckle pinching her belly through the thin fabric of her dress as her thighs locked around his hips.

"Usako…" His voice was shuddering, tormented, his hands fisting in the fabric of her skirt. "I… you…"

He had haiku to toss out like candy during a heated, dangerous battle, but at this moment speech seemed to fail him.

Finally giving way to her impatient fumbling, his shirt opened to her greedy, reaching hands, and a gratified sigh escaped her lips as her palms moved along his chest.

Each dip and plane of his muscles, the slim cut of his waist, the hip bones she knew were hiding just beneath his belted, conservative khakis - it had all been memorized by her long ago, burned in her memory from the few times she'd seen him topless - from training sessions, swimming outings and the like - and obsessed over as she lay in bed at night, imagining she was touching him, her teenage eyes watering with heartbreak and need and shame and want.

And now she pushed him up a bit, needing to worship his skin _properly,_ slipping her head down to run her mouth where her hands had just been, salty sweat mingling with her tears, her hands grasping his back under his open shirt, her tongue swirling above his belly button.

Usagi focused on memorizing this: the taste of him, the tautness of skin over muscle, the way he twitched and moaned in response, hands curling into her hair, hips bucking against her, erection straining against his pants.

And that's when the dulcet sounds of Mamoru's cell phone buzzing against the coffee table hit Usagi's ears like the worst thing she'd ever heard.

He sat up to answer it, slipping through her hands and leaving her bereft of his warmth. She leaned up on her elbows, heart pounding with worry, with disappointment, with hope.

"Yeah…" he was saying into the phone, running a hand through his hair, "I did. I'm sorry I forgot to call you back... She's fine."

The voice on the other end of the line - Minako's voice - asked a question, Usagi thought it might be 'where is she now?' and recognized her 'I'm the boss of protecting the princess and don't you forget it' tone.

Mamoru's long silence must've been all the answer she needed, or at least, it better have been, because with a polite, "Have a nice night, Aino," he not only ended the call, but turned the cell off completely.

Usagi realized she'd been holding her breath. When his eyes met hers, she wasn't sure what she read in them. Slowly, she stood up - still in her wrinkled, rumpled dress, and padded silently past him. It was only a few steps until she reached the half-open door to his bedroom, and she walked in without hesitation.

The view was breathtaking. It always was, the rare few times she'd been in his room before (or peeked in). The dingy city light filtered through the large windows, orange and pale, and it was silent but for her breathing and the muffled city sounds from below. An alarm clock glowed on his nightstand. A book was open, his glasses beside it. She ran her hand along the side of his bed - white sheets, black comforter. Taking it all in. The room was so darkly and essentially him. His scent lingered in the air.

A soft footfall behind her made her half turn and, seeing that he followed her, she faced the window again and took the side-zipper of her dress between her thumb and forefinger, pulling it slowly down. When she was unzipped to her waist, the dress fell over her hips and puddled around her feet. She kicked it to the side and took a deep breath, turned around to face him.

In the dim ambient light she stood before him in nothing but lacy pink underwear, bare feet and tangled hair, tear-stained face, and wide, simmering eyes.

He fell to his knees.

Stepping toward him, she held held out her hands and their fingers laced together, him still staring up at her, chin at her belly, eyes soft and worshipful beneath the black fringe of his hair.

"You're so beautiful, Usako," he breathed, and let go of her hands to trail his fingertips up her sides, looking at her in awed wonder. Goosebumps rose on her skin in response to his touch, her nipples tightening as his thumbs skimmed the sensitive skin beneath her breasts. "So much more beautiful than I ever imagined." He pressed his lips to the softness of her belly.

"You… imagined?" She was awestruck. "What, me?"

He looked at her seriously. "Usako, you were all I ever imagined."

Slowly, deliberately, she knelt down and slipped his shirt over his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Then she reached for his belt buckle, causing him to take a sharp intake of breath through his teeth, eyes pinched shut. When she started to undo the button on his pants, he grabbed her hands, stopping her.

"I'm on the pill…" she offered, misreading his hesitancy.

Their eyes met, for a charged moment - eyes wide and lips parted - and then he kissed her hard and deep and full of need, lifting her with his hands slipped under her underwear, grabbing at her bottom, and they fell onto the bed.

He wiggled out of his pants on his own, but it was her impatient hands tugging down his boxers. Usagi wrapped one arm around his shoulders, and wrapped her other hand around his erection, her kiss swallowing his moans as she stroked him - impossibly silky skin over rigidly hard flesh. "You feel amazing," she murmured into his mouth, and he shuddered.

Warm palms covered her breasts, thumb circling her nipple, and then there was his mouth, his tongue, moving over her skin in ways that made her writhe and gasp and beg, and her hands grabbed at his bottom, pushing his hips into hers, so his hard-on pressed into her, with only the thin fabric barrier of her underwear between them.

She was so lost in feeling his body beneath her hands, memorizing every detail of how he felt, his scent, his harsh breathing and soft moaning of her name, that she barely registered him removing her panties and tossing them aside.

Then, at the cusp of guiding himself into her, he stopped and just… looked at her, his eyes almost blue-black - a sultry midnight sky from a long ago night. Besides his chest heaving with each ragged breath, he didn't move, just gazed into her eyes until tears formed on the edges of her lashes.

"Mamo-chan, I-" She ached with tenderness, wanted to protect him, to keep him, to never let him go. "I lo-"

But before she could say it, his mouth was on hers, urgent and firm, and she automatically rolled her hips up as he pushed into her, thick, thick and _deep_, and her hands could touch him _anywhere she wanted_ and she could feel him everywhere, smell him everywhere and taste his sweat on her tongue and it had never been like this with anyone else _could_ never be like this with anyone else and oh god she might as well take a vow of chastity after this because she'd never be able to come like this again: so hard, so often or be able to open her eyes and see the person she _wanted_, looking at her the same way.

"_Usako…_" Her name was like a prayer in his throat, his movements an act of worship, and she allowed herself to cry out the name she had always swallowed down during the heights of every previous orgasm: "_Mamo-chan!_"

In the afterglow, his mouth was still on her skin, wet and hot and sloppy. Hands still trailing her body. "Stay up with me," she murmured, and he shifted, looking at her tenderly, a hand against her cheek.

"All night," he said, against her lips.

Hours of whispering together in the dark, of his hands and then his tongue bringing her once again to orgasm, of touching and kissing and tangling limbs and clasped hands had left her so emotionally and physically drained that, despite herself, she ended up drifting off to sleep to the feeling of him gently stroking her hair.

* * *

The sickening, devastating feeling in Usagi's stomach when she registered the sunlight through her eyelids wasn't wholly unfamiliar. Endymion and Serenity used to dread the dawn, too.

Mamoru offered her a ride home and she refused. He didn't press it. The mutual understanding was there: their night together belonged in the sanctity of his apartment; leaving together would break all their carefully held boundaries like a soap bubble.

Shakily, Usagi pulled the jacket he offered her over yesterday's dress. As if party clothes and tear-stained face on the morning train wasn't a clear enough indicator of a walk of shame, now she had an oversized men's coat across her shoulders. One that smelled like cinnamon and roses. "I… I'll get Ami to return this."

He gave her saddest half-smile she ever saw. Nodded.

_Ask me to stay,_ she begged mentally. _Tell me one night wasn't enough, that it would never be enough, that you need me forever and ever to have and to hold and not even death could part us, please, please, please._

He pressed his lips against her forehead, warm and soft and final. Sighed into her hair, his eyes red and bright with unshed tears. His answer so clear, so painful: _I can't. _We _can't._

She admitted to herself she knew that, too. Usagi smiled at him as she stood at the door, hand clutching the doorknob.

"So. I guess. See you later, Mamoru."

The click of the door closing behind her was quiet, but deafening.

* * *

_I take the long way home,_

_I ask the traffic lights if it'll be alright, they say_

_I don't know_

-Death by A Thousand Cuts, Taylor Swift


	2. Chapter 2

So this wasn't ... like, planned from the start to have a sequel but I couldn't help playing in this universe some more, and I sort of figured this whole thing was inevitable.

THANK YOU Irritable-vowel and Floraone!

...

_Killing me slow, out the window_

_I'm always waiting for you to be waiting below_

_Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes_

_What doesn't kill me makes me want you more_

-Taylor Swift, Cruel Summer

* * *

Usagi leaned her head on her hand and sighed, stirring the straw in her soda and watching the bubbles rise to the top of the glass. The chatter of her friends around her at the table faded into the general din of the cafe as she drifted off into a daydream.

It was more of a memory, really. Of icy air and snow just starting to fall over the frozen city. Of cold noses and hot breath. Fingers numb but mouth hot against his, back cold against the brick of the alley.

She didn't remember exactly which enemy they were fighting at the time, just that it was winter and she'd just blasted some mindless monster back to hell, and he'd carried her off in a rush of adrenaline. His eyes were wide with panic and relief behind the mask, and her lips found his - tentative and then bruising - her hands in his hair, toppling his hat and his mask. His gloved hands roamed her body, ostensibly checking for injuries, but his murmurs of "do you hurt anywhere?", "can you move this?" were right against her mouth, her neck, her hair. She'd curled her leg around him, pulling his hips closer, proving her knees were just fine, her thighs weren't injured, her hands and fingers and lips and shoulders were all unharmed and aching for his touch. It was like this so many times.

And then it stopped.

Because she could never have these memories without the other one, the day she found out her reborn true love had accepted the romantic confession of a classmate - an accomplished, intelligent, normal woman who didn't wear pigtails or cry at math tests.

And of course a Remless attacked that day. All Usagi had wanted to do was curl into her bed and eat an entire box of chocolate while reading sad manga, but noooooooo, Sailor Moon had to show up and face the Dead Moon's half-lion, half-lion tamer, with sharp claws AND a leather whip. She was so off her game, the Remless knocked her backward off a tree branch in the middle of her speech.

She'd landed in warm, safe arms, against a tuxedo-clad chest and honestly she would've preferred hitting the concrete.

Luckily, the senshi were screaming attacks and Mercury's fog was covering the area and in the chaos she was able to scramble away from him in the heat of battle. Unluckily, just after Sailor Moon got her fatal attack in on the Remless, the monster had one final blow, striking straight at her chest with his claws before he peaced out of the mortal realm.

She supposed it would've been worse if the claws had actually ripped through her flesh. But only slightly worse. Because instead, the claws got Tuxedo Kamen's cape, as he wrapped a protective arm around her and pressed her close.

And this was usually the moment when she'd find herself spirited away to a private rooftop or alley, kissed with a desperation that would disappear as quickly as it came when reality hit. And then they'd both pretend it never happened - until it inevitably happened again.

This time, however, was different. He was _with_ someone now. Trying to move on, as she had done at times with various short-lived dating spurts, but now it was _Mamoru_ \- cautious and serious and closed-off Mamoru - deciding to be someone's _boyfriend_ and _how could he?_

"Thanks for your help," she managed, proud of how flat and cold her voice was. "I'm fine."

His mouth had been close, half-open and she'd felt the warm puffs of his breath on her cheek, but he wasn't pulling away and it made her so mad. She had turned, pursed her lips, and kissed the air next to his cheek in a mockery of what once was. "Bye, then." And she'd stood and ran off without waiting for a response.

They hadn't kissed again, not for a long, long time. It took her so long to stop feeling the hypocritical sting of betrayal lingering long after Mamoru and Saori had parted ways. How _dare_ he try to move on? Was it too much to ask that he remain single and lonely, pining after Usagi forever just as she was apparently doomed to do the same for him?

She knew she was being unfair. The memories came with that same guilt.

Even happy memories were tinged with sadness. It'd been like that for two lifetimes.

You'd think she'd be used to it.

". . . Mamoru . . ." Ami's voice had been pleasant background to Usagi's thoughts, but shot through her like a bolt when she heard the name.

"Huh?" She looked up. "What was that again?"

Ami said, "I'm heading out now to go to Mamoru's place. He's looking over my research paper on pediatric cardiology."

It was good Mamoru and Ami were so close. It was wonderful they had such similar interests. That they could talk about smart things she couldn't understand. It was fine, Usagi told herself firmly. Fine, fine, _fine._

"I was thinking that you'd want to come by later, maybe," Ami finished.

"Me?" Usagi said.

"It'd be nice to catch him up a bit on how you are doing," Ami said, gently. "After all, the last time he saw you, you were having a panic attack."

Usagi curled her shoulders inward, fighting a flush on her cheeks. She'd told her friends Mamoru had been all Dr. Chiba/caring platonic friend that night - calming her down and driving her home after he was satisfied she was emotionally okay. If her friends suspected otherwise, they hadn't outright said anything.

Usagi shrugged awkwardly. "He called to check on me a few times." Over the phone he'd been kind. Polite. Concerned. His familiar warm baritone had flooded her with longing, causing her to grip the phone and shut her eyes to burning tears. Even though there was no one around to overhear, they both carefully pretended there was nothing else to discuss, the distance pointed and carefully constructed. He'd clearly already begun piecing the wall back together, and Usagi had to do the same with the pieces of her heart.

"Mamoru cares about you," Ami said. "And he was - is- a member of our team and ought to be kept in the loop despite… things being quiet lately."

"Yeah, you should go by in person and thank him," Makoto said, patting Usagi firmly on the shoulder. "I'd bake you something to bring if I'd've known ahead of time," she mused.

"Anyway, I'm heading out now," Ami stood, shifting her messenger bag over her shoulder. "Hopefully I'll see you soon," she said pointedly to Usagi.

"Don't feel awkward," Minako said quietly, and Usagi turned to look into her best friend's very knowing blue eyes. "Last time you saw Mamoru, you had just ended a long-term, serious relationship. Hell, you turned down a proposal!"

"Yeah, I remember," Usagi said, sighing. She and Seiya had had an excruciating August. Breaking off a long term relationship was so much harder than carelessly ending her fleeting flings in the past. Seiya had insisted she keep the ring, pressing it into her palm.

_"It wouldn't feel right to keep it," Usagi had insisted through hiccuping tears, and in pushing it back, laced hands with Seiya one last time. Their eyes met across their interlocked fingers._

_"I can't be him," Seiya said, simply. Sadly._

_Usagi was weeping harder than he was. She curled her hand back, empty of the ring she hadn't ever even worn. "You shouldn't have to be."_

"And your relationship with Mamoru has always been… complicated," Minako was saying.

Usagi nodded. That was an understatement.

"So it's understandable you might feel, like… weird? About just stopping by his place. But don't. Okay?"

"Okay…" Usagi said, searching Minako's eyes a bit, before the taller blonde stood up, taking one last long sip of her soda.

"Well, I'm already fifteen minutes late for work," she said. She air-kissed Usagi's cheek. "Wish I could go with you."

"That's okay," Rei piped up from the far end of the table, looking at Usagi with intense violet eyes. "I'll go with her."

* * *

Heat shimmered like water on the pavement, cicadas screaming their last sonata from the trees. Store signs advertised autumn products 'coming soon', but the September air was still thick with summer.

Usagi pushed down her bangs, acutely aware of their unruliness, frizzing into the humidity. Next to her, Rei's hair shimmered smoothly down her back like an obsidian waterfall, her face delicately pale and seemingly unperturbed by the heat that was making Usagi's skin shimmer in sweat.

"Rei," the words were out there before Usagi had really thought about what she was saying, "why didn't you and Mamoru ever get back together after it was clear that he and I weren't ever going to … weren't meant to be?" She tried to keep her voice light, almost dismissive. It was only due to years of practice that she succeeded.

"Why do you think?" she snapped, offended by the very question.

"I mean, I know you'd never do that to me but…"

"And neither would he," Rei said, firmly. "Plus, it was pretty obvious that-"

"That what?" Usagi prompted curiously when Rei cut herself off.

Instead of answering, she just sighed deeply. "This whole thing is a shame," she murmured, "that's all."

"What do you mean?" Usagi said, utterly confused and a bit unnerved. But Rei didn't answer and soon enough they were being buzzed into the refreshingly air-conditioned lobby.

* * *

Ami answered the door, soft smile and kind, kind eyes for Usagi. Usagi bent to take off her shoes, pretending not to see Ami and Rei share a meaningful look over her head, pretending not to breathe in the cool, clean scent of Mamoru's place - central air, citrus soap, fresh cut flowers - and beneath it all like a hint of cinnamon in hot chocolate - him.

Mamoru was seated on the floor by the coffee table, a sheaf of papers spread out before him and a pencil in his graceful fingers. He looked up as the door closed behind them, black fringe falling across his forehead, electric blue eyes behind wire-rim glasses.

He was so beautiful. How had she forgotten how beautiful he was? Even without the searing memories of the last time she was here, he took her breath away.

For a moment their eyes met and Usagi's heart stuttered in her chest. Then he smiled through her, greeting them with gracious, polite language.

"Ami mentioned you were stopping by, Usa. Wonderful as always to see you, too, Rei."

Usagi's eyes searched his but he turned his gaze back to the paper in front of him, making a little mark on the sentence he was reading. Her presence hadn't even broken his concentration. Numb, she sank onto the sofa next to Rei.

Mamoru made a quick comment to Ami about a citation in her work, and soon those two were deep in discussion using words Usagi didn't bother to try to follow. Rei joined in a bit as topics shifted to medical school and jobs and stress, and Usagi had nothing to add because she was still part-time at Seibu department store and lived at home. Marrying Seiya would've changed everything, she certainly wouldn't be here on Mamoru Chiba's sofa, awkwardly watching him ignore her while she spun her hair around her fingers in nervous boredom.

Then again, marrying Seiya meant she wouldn't be here, on Mamoru Chiba's sofa, listening to his voice and watching him spin the pencil through those tapered fingers, being part of his world - this world - even an insignificant one.

God, she was the very dictionary definition of pathetic.

"Are you okay?" Ami's question made Usagi realize she'd actually groaned out loud when throwing her head into her hands.

"Yeah," she mumbled into her palms.

"Probably bored," Rei said, and Ami flushed, apologizing for monopolizing the time.

"Don't be sorry, you are the reason we are here, anyway," Usagi said. Was there bitterness in her voice? She didn't think so, even as Mamoru's eyes -finally- looked her way.

"How _are_ you doing, Usa?" he asked, and the question was warm and genuine and no more intimate than a doctor at a follow-up appointment.

"I'm okay," she told her hands. "Adjusting to single life. No more panic attacks. Just..."_ Just pining for you and feeling guilty for breaking someone else's heart over the most doomed love in the galaxy, angry at being unable to move on and remembering our night together every damn minute of every damn day because I will never not crave your lips on mine…_ "I dunno. Life."

She thought she felt his eyes on her, but when she finally lifted her gaze, he'd already looked away.

—-

The hot bath water had done wonders to loosen the tense muscles in her shoulders but hadn't done much for the weight on her heart. Usagi padded into her room, shaking her hair from the bun she'd had it up in. Luna looked up from the bed with luminous, feline eyes and Usagi made herself smile brightly.

"Usagi," the cat said, almost hesitantly, "will you talk to me?"

"About what?" She slipped on her softest, most comfortable tank top (comfort where she could find it, after all) and started running a brush through her hair.

"I was just thinking… you … when you were with Seiya we all thought…"

Usagi met Luna's eyes in the mirror, but didn't speak. Luna seemed to search for words.

"We all thought the complications with Mamoru would be over. That you were finally… moving on."

Usagi put the brush on her dresser and ran her finger over the bristles, hating the burning in her throat. "I thought so too," she whispered. "Or, at least, I wanted to."

"Perhaps…" Luna looked out the open window, into the starless, orange-tinted Tokyo night. "Perhaps we were wrong all those years ago. I assumed you two didn't care for each other, but clearly you've been hurting and-"

"We're bad together," Usagi interrupted. "I didn't need you to tell me that."

Sure, he cared about her. Liked her, even. Not enough to challenge fate, not enough to selfishly grab her and claim her and declare he didn't fucking CARE that they were star-crossed, that they'd just have to kick fate in the ass the same way they had fought off everyone else from Beryl to Galaxia. It was only tortured glances and stolen kisses and disappearing to America for a year.

Just one desperate night, heaven and hell, all she ever wanted and all she could never have. And then today looking at her like she was nobody. Or, like she was everybody else.

The sob bubbled up from her throat even as she pressed her hand to her mouth to keep it in. Luna jumped soundlessly off the bed and rubbed her body on Usagi's legs until her charge picked her up and cuddled her, pressing her face into Luna's soft fur.

For a few long, cathartic moments they stayed like that. Then Usagi sat on the bed, curling her long legs into a crossed position and resting her head in her hands. Her room was hot and humid but a gentle, fragrant breeze came over her balcony. Luna hesitated at the edge of her bed.

"I think I'll just go to sleep now," Usagi said softly. "Let me know if Shingo comes home."

Usagi's parents were out of town and Shingo was out with friends; sometimes he made last train and sometimes he didn't. Usagi was grateful for the house to herself, especially when she'd wanted to do nothing more than wallow.

Sensing her need for space, Luna nuzzled Usagi's cheek before saying she was going out to roam, and lept from the balcony onto the tree, onto the lawn, and out into the night, mirroring the motions her pigtailed super hero charge had done countless times throughout the years.

It was barely a moment after Luna left that Tuxedo Kamen appeared in her window. Usagi sat up, looking at him with shocked eyes as he stood from the crouch which he'd landed on her balcony and swung long legs over the windowsill.

Usagi's mouth dropped open slightly, eyes searching and breath catching in her throat. "Mamo-"

He ripped off the mask and hat, throwing them aside, and looked at her with panicked, desperate eyes. "Usako…"

She found her face cupped in his gloved hands, his nose barely brushing hers, mouth working as he searched for words he couldn't find. Usagi slowly raised her hands, brushing her fingertips along the back of his gloves, eyes soft and concerned.

"I…" he managed, still searching her eyes with an intensity that made her shudder. "I can't…" His fingers pressed into her scalp and she lifted her chin just slightly, and his lips crushed to hers.

She instantly responded, slipping her hands back into his hair, gently maneuvering his head in order to deepen the kiss. The mattress dipped as he shifted his knee onto the bed, pulling them closer together.

"I can't do this anymore," his voice broke, forehead pressed to hers.

Usagi's heart dropped, in confusion, in worry, in hope. "What?" she whispered.

"I can't, I just…" His hands dropped to her sides, his head to her shoulder. Soft hair brushed against her bare skin, and in a rush of air Tuxedo Kamen was gone and Mamoru was in her arms, in a t-shirt and jeans, sneakers still on his feet and bare hands now pressed against her back.

She felt a warm dampness between his face and her shoulder and realized they were tears. His hold on her was so tight she could barely breathe, but who cared, and what was breath anyway because she was surrounded by his scent and his warmth and taste.

Shifting his head back up to hers, he pressed his mouth against hers again, hands moving along the thin fabric of her tank top, slipping up beneath to brush her skin, his chest against her breasts. As she felt herself being lowered to her bed, his weight settling on her and his mouth everywhere and hands moving to her bare thighs and cotton underwear, she sent up a silent prayer that Shingo missed the last train, that Luna was out for the night, that no one come and ruin this. That she could enjoy Mamoru's lapse in judgement just this much longer, please, oh please…

She twisted her hands into his hair, clutching his shirt, locking her thighs around him as if she could keep him there forever.

"I can't," he was saying, between kisses, "I just can't… anymore…"

It'd been months. He'd barely acknowledged her that afternoon.

"Looking at you was like staring into the sun," he mumbled, as if reading her mind.

Tears pricked at her eyes as she kissed the salt from his cheeks. "But you said…"

Pulling back to look at her, he searched her eyes, his expression open and vulnerable and scared, so very, very scared.

"You said you… you didn't even_ like_ me…" It seemed ridiculous now, after all they'd been through together - the years and the battles and the deep understanding they shared. But awkward teenage disaster Usagi remembered the arrogant, perfectionist upperclassman who was all too willing to let her go.

"I _never_ said that," his voice a harsh, insistent whisper.

The tears threatened to spill from her eyes.

And then he broke their most honored unspoken, sacred rule.

"Usako, I have _always_ loved you."

Love. That wasn't allowed. Friendship, caring, even lust - that could be excused, pushed aside, surely the world wouldn't end because her tongue ended up in his mouth after a few battles — but love. Love was what destroyed them before. Loving her was what the dreams had warned him about.

Love was doom.

Her hiccup was half sob, hand over her mouth, looking at him in amazement, awe, confusion, fear. Giant, hot tear drops slid down her cheek, only to be brushed away by his gentle fingers.

His eyes were solemn, his expression subdued, as if giving this momentous moment the gravity it deserved. His body was still warm, still pressed against hers.

"You know how I feel about you," she whispered. "You've always known, haven't you?"

There was no getting over this. No moving on. It was burn alive in this love or freeze to death without it.

Usagi knew what she would choose. What she would always choose.

And now, with his mouth hot against hers, desperate hands clutching at her body, shaking with the aftermath of so utterly and completely breaking… he'd made his choice, too.

The only question was…

What now?

* * *

There was enough of a chill in the air that Usagi could pull out her cute jean jacket that morning, but not enough that she needed to forgo the mini-skirt. Autumn was meant to be an ending, but this year it felt like a beginning.

The steps to Rei's shrine had never been more intimidating, but Mamoru was waiting for her at the bottom with a warmth in his eyes she'd never get over. She smiled, just for him, and took his hand as they walked up together.

It hadn't been a misty, moonlit night in the forests of Elysion, it hadn't been borne of desperation and impending doom. But it had been just as impulsive, just as inevitable, just as _right_ beneath the buzzing fluorescent lights of the ward office.

And right now no immediate changes had yet occurred, but they would, and soon, and Usagi hadn't felt any oppressive danger and Mamoru's nightmares had stopped.

So it was together that they entered the shrine, where six pairs of eyes - four human and two feline - looked at them intensely, curiously, warily.

"Usagi, what's going on?" Minako asked, eyes searching hers with that too-intuitive look.

Usagi swallowed against the dry in her throat and prepared herself for a long afternoon. Mamoru squeezed her hand and she finally spoke, touching the thin gold band on her finger as she did.

"We're married."

* * *

_My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue_

_All's well that ends well to end up with you_

-Taylor Swift, Lover


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you to my perfect beautiful beta reader irritable-vowel-types, and my 'talking all things UsaMamo when I'm in a fic mood' friend Floraone and everyone who sends reviews that keep me motivated!

* * *

Prequel - this takes place before everything else, although some of these things were referenced in flashbacks etc.

* * *

_Don't know what to say since the twist of fate_

_When it all broke down and_

_the story of us_

_Looks a lot like a tragedy now_

-Taylor Swift, Story of Us

Usagi's knees pressed into the hard, wooden floor of Rei's shrine as she sat with her legs tucked beneath her, back straight, feeling quite oddly like she was on trial. Or in detention. Or somehow in trouble with an authority figure, which was a feeling she was decidedly used to. Didn't mean she had to like it.

Mamoru probably wasn't used to it though, Usagi reflected, stealing a glance at the man seated next to her. His head was bowed slightly, ebony hair falling into his face, hiding it from her. His long legs had folded themselves effortlessly to match Usagi's formal way of sitting.

"So," Rei said, her voice firm but not unkind or scolding - to Usagi's relief. "Now that we know the truth about those dream warnings you both have had…"

"What do we do now?" Minako's soft soprano voice was so gentle that it made Usagi's throat ache with the tears she refused to shed. Honestly, she was surprised she still even had any tears left; her eyes and skin seemed to be permanently salt-burned.

"I think it's important not to take these dreams lightly," Luna said from where she sat next to Artemis, the two cats radiating authority despite being the smallest beings in the room.

"I'm far from taking it lightly," Mamoru snapped, startling all those present by breaking the silence he'd sat in since they had all arrived.

"Clearly," Artemis conceded.

Usagi bristled at the unspoken implication that _she_ was not taking it seriously enough, and she tugged on her skirt in agitation.

"Well, what should we do about it?" Ami asked, thoughtfully.

"What do you mean 'do about it'?" Usagi spoke up, wishing her voice had a little less whine to it, but unable to stop it. "There's nothing to do. We go about our lives keeping our eyes open for me being swallowed up by a canyon on my wedding day." She only noticed Mamoru's almost-invisible flinch at her words because she was hyper focused on every move he made.

"I'm not sure that's wise," Luna said. "Considering your history in the Silver Millennium."

"What do you mean?" Usagi argued, shifting her numb legs beneath her. "That was-"

"We were speaking before you got here," Rei interrupted, and Usagi sent a betrayed look their way.

Makoto awkwardly shrugged. "You _were_ twenty minutes late…" the brunette mumbled, a guilty blush staining her cheeks.

"And what did you decide about _me_ without me even _being_ here?" Usagi wasn't being fair and she knew it, but it didn't stop her. Little did she know, that feeling would soon be her new normal.

Their voices all blended together with the roaring in her ears - good, solid, logical reasons why it'd just be easier, better, safer if she and Mamoru stayed broken up. If she just continued to live without the love of her life.

"You hadn't even gotten along until you found out about Endymion and Serenity," Ami pointed out. "And perhaps it is better not to force something just because it worked in a past life?"

"It's true," Luna said, thoughtfully. "You two never did even like each other."

_"That's a lie!"_ Usagi wanted to shout. _"Maybe I didn't know it, maybe I didn't realize but I've been in love with him since the arcade, since Tuxedo Kamen first saved me in the jewellery store, since seeing him with Rei made me want to claw her eyes out and I didn't know why, since him disappearing made me want to cut off my own hair in grief -"_ But the words stuck in her throat with Mamoru's slow nod.

By the time Mamoru and the cats left, Usagi's legs were fully numb and she felt maybe her heart was too.

"At least now you know you didn't cause the break up," Minako said kindly, leaning forward to squeeze Usagi's arm. "I know you spent so long suffering about what you did wrong, when it was nothing you could've done."

"It just wasn't meant to be," Rei said, softly.

Minako shifted closer and added, "And you can meet someone else someday, someone more suited to you." Ouch. That one hurt.

"It's true, he wasn't good for you," Makoto added, her strong arm encircling Usagi's shoulders with a warm squeeze. "You deserve better."

Dimly, she wondered what 'better' could possibly mean. The girls surrounded her with love and pep talks and forced cheer and talks of a fresh start. As if her feelings for Mamoru were just childish fantasy, easily put aside. The dreams of a flighty teenager, hopeless romantic, to have some reborn prince destined to be her cool college boyfriend. Disappointing, but not life-ending. Usagi wondered if she really, really tried, maybe eventually they'd be right.

* * *

Esmaraude must've been trying to exhaust them. It was just two days ago that Ami had been targeted by that self-esteem sucking bug-haired jerk at the cram school, and usually they had more of a break than this.

The senshi were on their way, and, despite Tuxedo Kamen's usual perfectly timed rose interrupting a blast directed at her, Sailor Moon still stumbled and took a side-swipe hit on her leg before aiming the sceptre and screaming her attack with all the frustration and anguish she'd been feeling since the goddamn Starlight Tower.

Sailor Moon was so hyped up from the adrenaline and moon-derived super powers that she didn't even feel any pain until the Droid had vanished in a sparkling shower of Moon Princess Halation. She then noticed the tear in her skirt and the already-purpling scrape running from her knee to mid-thigh.

In a flash Tuxedo Kamen was by her side, pulling her close and leaping up to get her away from the already-gathering crowd. Sailor Moon didn't even try to not enjoy it, and the embrace ended all too soon as he sat her down gently on the soft grass in a much more isolated part of the park and knelt beside her.

It was so different now than it was at the start. They knew each other. They worked together - on the same team and for the same cause and with the same passion but this time she wasn't allowed to be attracted to him, for her heart to flutter whenever he appeared in battle with that heartstopping dramatic flair.

She shouldn't _want_ to fall just so he could catch her and she could feel a moment of his warmth through the layers of dress shirt and jacket and gloves.

As Mamoru, he even sat in on some senshi meetings, always arriving on time when she'd stumble in late and flushed, furiously pushing stray hairs behind her ears, and he'd just look at her and look at her and not say a word except a polite hello and goodbye and if she was especially lucky he might smirk a bit at her antics even while Rei rolled her eyes and Luna called for order.

This time, he looked at her injury with a grimace, all of Tuxedo Kamen's pompous pretense dissolving into genuine concern and guilt. "I'm so sorry," he breathed, eyes shining through the mask as he touched her knee with one gloved hand, hissing through his teeth as she flinched.

The wound was superficial and already healing; as long as she didn't detransform for a while Usagi wouldn't even feel it once Sailor Moon disappeared in a flash of ribbons and light. It didn't matter, and she opened her mouth to say so, but Tuxedo Kamen was already pulling off his gloves and gently - oh-so-gently- pressing the flesh beside the cut, and her voice died in her throat.

His hat had fallen to the side and his hair was inches from her face, it looked so soft and she could smell his scent and his breath puffed air along her neck and his touch had gone from clinical to something else… Fingers softly brushing against her skin with an instinctive gentleness.

"Does this hurt much?" He looked up at her and they were so close, his nose almost touching hers. His fingers were still resting on her leg with a butterfly's touch, his eyes falling to her lips. Their breath mingled and her open lips were barely brushing his when she answered, hands curling around his jacket lapel and clutching the fabric tight.

"Of course this hurts," she breathed, and then all breath was gone and it was just his mouth - hot and wet and open against hers, bodies twisting to hold each other tighter, her arms winding around his waist, under his jacket, and his warm palm pressing hot against her leg, the other in her hair, and there was no breath and no excuses and no apologies and no _thinking_ and a few long moments later with swollen lips and disheveled hair they sheepishly promised each other this wouldn't happen again.

And they continued to promise that again and again, every single time.

* * *

_Four new senshi and two defeated enemies later…_

Saori double-checked the address in her notebook before buzzing into Mamoru's apartment building. They'd been together for almost a month now but this was her first time going to his place - their dates were mostly dinners and some lectures at campus, and, once, a house party of some mutual friends. She'd called him when she noticed he was missing classes, and even though he brushed off her concern initially, she finally got out of him that he'd been feeling unwell lately.

Armed with homemade chicken soup, a thermos of honey cinnamon tea, and a package of throat lozenges, Saori was prepared to be the dutiful girlfriend and nurse him back to health - she hoped it'd make them closer, break through some of the walls that her cooly polite and distantly kind boyfriend cleary still had up.

When she reached the door, she was surprised to see it open even as she raised her hand to knock. She was greeted by a pair of beautiful purple eyes, looking at her as if she was ants at a picnic - expected, tolerated, but definitely not warmly welcomed.

"Hello," the girl said, in formal, polite language. "Please come in." She had porcelain skin, dark eyelashes and the shiniest black hair Saori had ever seen outside of television commercials.

"Thank you," Saori slipped out of her kitten heels and stepped into the genkan. "I don't think we've met, I'm-"

"I know who you are," the girl said. She eyed the bag in Saori's hand and a flash of condescension flitted across her face for a moment. "Mamoru's in bed," she gestured to the closed door next to the tiny kitchenette. "You can go in if you want; I think he's awake."

"Are you his sister?" Saori said, and was rewarded with a strange, almost incredulous look.

"Mamoru doesn't have a sister," a voice said from behind her, and she whirled to see a diminutive blonde girl exit the bathroom, holding a glass of water. She walked past Saori and sat heavily on the sofa, putting her head in her hands as if she had a headache, suddenly looking years older than the teenager Saori figured she was. Her hair fell in twin streamers across thin shoulders, knotted at the top in a strange, but oddly endearing, style.

Feeling strangely defensive, Saori made herself walk into Mamoru's bedroom as if she'd been there many times before, saying, "Hey there, it's me," before closing the door behind her.

Then she had to stifle a gasp, because he looked awful. Pale, with a damp sweat along his brow, brilliant blue eyes dulled and pinched with pain. "Saori," he said, sitting up slightly on his elbows. "Hi."

"I brought soup," she said, taking a thermos out of the bag and placing it gently on the nightstand in one graceful movement. "And I made some cinnamon tea for your throat, why don't you have a sip now?" She poured it into the small cup and handed it to him.

He grimaced a thank you, raising the cup to his lips. Feeling oddly like she was overstepping her bounds, but stubbornly doing it anyway, Saori reached out and ran her fingers through his limp, damp hair. "Have you been to a doctor?" she said, concerned at the heat radiating from his skin. "Is it the flu? Do you need medicine? I can grab some…"

He shook his head, waved his hand a bit, putting the teacup down after taking one polite sip. "I know what it is. It's under control."

"But-"

"I'm being taken care of," he said softly.

"By those girls outside?" Saori said, "Who are they, anyway? Family?"

"In a way," his voice was soft. He laid back down and shut his eyes.

"Who is that blonde girl who was in here? What's her name?" Saori kept her voice light, but it irked her to realize she knew so little about the man she'd been over the moon to get a date with.

"She's the savior of the world," he murmured, clearly already dozing off. "The messiah." His breathing deepened and slowed and she guessed he'd fallen asleep.

Saori pressed her hand to this burning forehead and stayed in his room for a long time, just watching him sleep, and listening to the girls outside the door, moving around and murmuring to each other just out of earshot.

When Saori finally left, Usagi's shoulders dropped as if releasing pounds of tension. Even though she knew it wasn't fair, it didn't stop her from being blindingly angry at Saori, with her slim figure and graceful movements and perfect grades and impeccably tailored pencil skirts. The woman who had the _gall_ to confess to _someone else_'s star-crossed doomed love, and what's worse - dared to be likeable and similar enough to Mamoru that he seemed to honestly enjoy her company?

It was one thing sneaking around to catch glimpses of Saori near campus or at the cafe with Mamoru; it was quite another to confront her straight on, in Mamoru's apartment, walking in like she had been there so many times before, walking into his bedroom like it was a second home and looking at Usagi like she had no idea who she even _was_…

And she was just so angry and so tired and so over everything and Mamoru might be dying and …

"Usagi?" Rei's voice was uncharacteristically gentle, kind - which Usagi knew meant she must look all kinds of pathetic. "He's asked for you."

The room was warm, quiet and the door closed behind Usagi with a gentle click that made Mamoru open his eyes and turn toward her. For so many weeks she'd been so angry, so betrayed, so hurt and so, so _mad_ at him but that all evaporated the second she saw how pale and sick he looked.

In three strides she was by his bed, and their hands slipped together effortlessly, interlacing fingers - hers cold against this feverish temperature. "I will protect this world," Usagi said, words tumbling from her mouth like they could cure him. "I will save you."

"I know," he said, softly. His gaze met her eyes with a strength and connection that took her breath away.

She left quickly before she did something stupid like kiss him.

* * *

Mamoru had recovered fully when Saori met him to break it off. There wasn't much to it: she was sad, he was sorry to have made her sad, she kissed him and he let her, and then she left.

"It's a shame you two didn't last," Motoki was saying, filling the mug of coffee in front of his friend. "I mean, Saori's a great girl and you two are so similar. What went wrong?"

Mamoru let the black coffee scald his tongue, considered Motoki for a moment. "I'm not sure," he finally answered.

"Well, you seem okay about it at least," Motoki said, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Okay 'bout what?" a familiar voice chirped at his shoulder. Clearly Minako Aino's Gossip Senses™ had been tingling.

And with that, the whole of Tokyo would know by sunset, Mamoru thought sardonically as Motoki filled Minako in. He rose to leave, meeting Usagi's eyes across the cafe - they always seemed to find each other's gaze. He smiled and nodded and she responded with a sulk that he refused to let himself find adorable.

* * *

They weren't supposed to end up kissing. But, of course they ended up kissing. Usagi was still angry, her fingers twisted into Mamoru's shirt, tugging him down at the same time she pushed herself up on her tip-toes, pressing her lips to his in an unyielding demand. His hands held her sides, palms against softness below her ribs, fingers curling around her back to press her hips closer to his.

He didn't even have the decency to be the one to break it off with that farce of a girlfriend, when Usagi had dumped every single one of her short-lived flings, because nothing worked without him. It wasn't _fair._

She was pressed back against the cold concrete wall, his hands in her hair, his mouth hot and open and insistent on hers, and_ none_ of this was_ fair._

That night, alone in her room, Usagi dug her teeth into her pencil, staring blankly at a homework sheet while the radio announced the premiere of a single from a brand new pop group. Across Juuban, Mamoru carefully wrote his name on an application to Harvard.

It had never been fair.


End file.
